Heere lyes old Hobinol, our shephard while heare
That very duly, our fleeces did sheere.
To please us he tyde up his Cur in a clog
And was to us both shephard and dog.
for his oblations to pan his manners were thus
Him selfe give a trifle, and offred up us,
And thus by his wisdom the providant swaine
Kept himselfe on the mountaine and us on the plaine
where many a Hornepipe he tun'd to his Phyllis
And sweetly sung Walsingham to Amaryllis
The whilst neither Tyger nor wolfe feard wee
for he never let worse thing come near us then hee
Till Atropos payd him (a pox on the Drab)
for in spite of his tarbox hee dy'de of the scab